


The Fine Line

by Pushmipullu



Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989), Ghostbusters - All Media Types, The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pushmipullu/pseuds/Pushmipullu
Summary: A tabloid publishes an extremely exaggerated 'tell-all' article about Egon, painting him as an emotionless mad scientist. When this begins to make a dent in the Ghostbusters' income, Egon decides to step out of his comfort zone, which backfires quite a bit.





	1. Chapter 1

"Okay, okay, I get it, Egon," Peter grumbled as he leaned back in his desk chair. ""I'm entitled to a few mistakes every now and then. Right, Ray?"

"Hm?" said Ray's voice, which came from across the room, somewhere under the hood of the Ecto-1A.

Egon, who had been lecturing Peter for the past fifteen minutes or so, sighed in exasperation.

"Peter, Ray and I didn't build an extensive and advanced security system for the firehouse just so you could take out the garbage and forget to lock the side door when you came back in."

"Egon, like I said, it was an honest mistake, alright? Ray, help me out here!" pleaded Peter.

"Sorry, Pete," said Ray, popping up from the front end of the car. "I'm afraid you deserve it this time."

"Yeah," Winston chimed in as he came down the stairs. "I mean, what if a serial killer got in here? Or a mugger? Or a Jehova's Witness?"

"It was only a hobo," Peter replied.

"Dr. Venkman, if I may?" said Janine, who had been typing furiously on her computer for the past several minutes. "There's nothing in my job description that says I'm supposed to chase hobos out of the building at one in the morning. Next time I'll let him stay."

"Et tu, Janine?" muttered Peter. "Fine. It won't happen again, cross my heart."

Dr. Venkman crossed his heart in a very unenthusiastic way, then glared at Egon.

"Satisfied, Mr. Magoo?"

"No," said Egon, who immediately headed for the staircase.

As he was making his way up the stairs, Janine's phone suddenly rang. Without even looking away from her computer screen, the red-haired secretary lifted the receiver and held it a few centimeters away from her ear, just in case.

"Ghostbusters...Uh-huh? Yeah? Alright, they'll be over in...huh?"

She bit her lip. Winston noticed this, and went over to Janine's desk. He was well aware that Janine only bit her lip when the person on the phone was being difficult. There was silence for a few moments, and then…

"I'm not sure about that...let me check with them."

Peter, who had been sulking at his desk, suddenly stood up and rushed to Janine's side.

"What is it, Janine? More fake IRS calls?"

Janine covered the bottom of the receiver with one hand and turned to face him.

"No, Dr. Venkman. This client here, he has a 'request', and it's one I've never gotten before. And believe me, I've gotten everything."

Winston and Peter both raised their eyebrows. This seemed to get Ray's attention too, because he immediately dropped what he was doing and joined his fellow Ghostbusters at the desk.

"What kind of 'request'?" asked Peter.

"He doesn't want Egon to come. Says he's nervous about having him around his family."

"What!?" said Ray. "Let me talk to him!"

"Calm down, Ray. It's a perfectly reasonable request," injected Peter.

But it was too late. Janine had already handed Ray the phone.

"Hello? Sir, I assure you each of our employees are highly qualified professionals who would never, under any circumstances...What article?"

For almost a minute, Ray didn't say a thing. Then, he slowly lowered the receiver and handed it back to Janine. He looked stunned.

"The guy hung up on me. Said something about a tabloid article painting Egon as a 'menace'."

"A what?" said Winston in disbelief.

"Seriously?" Peter chimed in. "I mean, Egon is a lot of things, but menace isn't one of the top five adjectives I'd use to describe him."

"Janine, did you get yesterday's mail?" Ray asked in an urgent tone.

"Yeah. It's right on the desk, as usual," Janine replied.

The four of them turned to look at Peter's desk. In a flash, the three Ghostbusters were standing over it, pushing various stacks of magazines and newspapers out of the way in an attempt to find the incriminating tabloid. At last, Winston produced a magazine with a large picture of a frowning Egon on the front.

"I think this is it, guys," he said. "Take a look at that headline."

The other two crowded around him to see what their fourth member was talking about. Across the bottom of the page, in big, yellow letters, were the words:

"EGON SPENGLER: SOCIETAL MENACE? SEE FOR YOURSELF IN THIS SHOCKING ARTICLE!"

To say the Ghostbusters were surprised by these words would be an understatement. They were utterly bewildered and extremely confused. Egon, a menace to society? Who in their right mind would write an article like that?

"Read it, Zee," said Ray in a worried tone.

Winston carefully opened the magazine to the first page. He began to read it aloud.

"The Ghostbusters. For years, these four men have been associated with tales of heroism and bravery. Time and time again, their unique skills have saved the city from disaster. But how much do we really know about them? Is there something more to these so-called 'ghost exterminators' than meets the eye? Are their motives really altruistic, or is there something more sinister going on behind the scenes?"

"Blah, blah, blah," yawned Peter. "This kind of stuff isn't new. Get to the part about Egon."

Winston gave Peter a hard look before continuing.

"...which brings us to the Ghostbusters' most elusive member; Dr. Egon Spengler. Known among some media circles as 'The Silent One', this member of the team seems to almost completely shun the media. Dr. Spengler has made only limited appearances with his fellow Ghostbusters on a few late night talk shows, and even then, he seems to let his co-workers do most of the talking. The private lives of doctors Stanz, Venkman, and Zeddemore have long been public knowledge, but even now, so many years after the Ghostbusters first opened for business, Dr. Spengler's background is still a complete mystery. Who is he? Where does he come from? What has he done? The answer, my friends, is far more sinister than you think."

Winston glanced over the rest of the article quickly. When he was done, he pressed his hand against his forehead and sighed.

"It's not pretty," Winston said. "This reporter guy goes on to say he interviewed a couple of people Egon 'experimented' on. They say he's some sort of emotionless monster who'll do anything to 'sate his demented curiosity'."

"Give me that!" said Ray.

He took the magazine from Winston and read it carefully. In a few moments, the normally calm Ghostbuster was trembling with anger.

"This is complete bull****." growled Ray. "That one guy they interviewed told us he knew the risks involved in the process! And he only lost 49% of his hair follicles! Everything else is either ridiculously exaggerated or completely made up!"

Ray passed the magazine to Peter, who looked at the article for about two seconds before plopping it back on the desk.

"Wow," he said. "That was harsh, even by my standards. I mean, Egon isn't the most cuddly guy in the world, but a crazed-lobotomy-obsessed-maniac? That's a bit much."

"The problem is, this whole mess is kind of our fault," Ray said sadly.

"What do you mean?" asked Winston.

"Think about it," replied Ray. "All the press we've gotten over the years. It was always me or Peter who did most of the talking. Egon's just not good at that kind of thing, and he never has been. I thought it'd be best if he stayed out of the spotlight, but those rabid meat-for-brains reporters were never satisfied, and because they couldn't get enough info out of any of us, they've resorted to making up their own information or digging it up themselves and twisting it into something spectacular."

Peter patted Ray on the shoulder.

"Aw, come on Ray. When have we ever given a hoot about public opinion? Remember the time that one lady wrote a tell-all article about yours truly?"

"Yeah, but most of that stuff was true," muttered Ray.

"Exactly. And you know what happened to us? Absolutely nothing! People read this kind of garbage in the papers every day, and it never affects anyone. Just ask the politicians in this city! Honestly, I think we're all overreacting."

Ray and Winston looked at Peter with very unconvinced expressions on their faces.

"Trust me, by this time next week the guy who called us and the people who read this thing will have forgotten it ever existed. I say we toss this hot little piece of gossip in my conveniently located wastebasket and pretend it never happened."

"Dr. Venkman," Janine interjected. "What should I say if I get any more calls like that last one?"

"You won't get any more, Janine. This is what we call an 'isolated case'."

Ray rolled his eyes.

"Janine," he said. "Just tell them that we're sorry, but the Ghostbusters don't accept requests like that. In this line of work we need all hands on deck, no matter how unpopular they may be."

Winston and Ray stared at Peter, who simply shrugged.

"What?" he asked.

Ray sighed, and began to walk back towards the front of the car.

"One last thing before we 'pretend this never happened'," asked Winston. "Do you think we should tell Egon about this article? I mean, if people suddenly start hating him for no reason, he deserves to know why."

"I wouldn't bother," said Ray.

Winston and Peter glanced at each other, but both were silent. They figured the article would be forgotten quickly, and besides, it wouldn't have any impact on their daily lives even if it wasn't.

They would soon discover how very wrong they were.


	2. Chapter 2

The tabloid was soon forgotten, and a few days later, Ray and Egon found themself stuck in traffic on one of New York’s various busy streets. It was late in the evening, sometime after six, and the two Ghostbusters, though no stranger to traffic jams, were annoyed. They were on their last scheduled call of the day, and rather eager to get it over with.

“You ever been to Dikeman’s Clockworks, Egon?” Asked Ray, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Egon was busy adjusting the wiring on a small, black, breadbox-sized gadget he had in his lap, and didn’t look away from it as he spoke.

“Not personally. But a long time ago, my father bought one of those cat clocks with the rotating eyes from there. I dismantled it and used its parts to build a device that could be used to accelerate the decomposition of various kinds of market produce.”

Ray nodded. As Egon spoke, the traffic began to speed up a bit, and he accelerated to match it. 

“Think you can tell me more about this call? I know it’s at the shop, but other than that…”

“Apparently one of their grandfather clocks has started shouting profanity at customers, giggling, and making obscene gestures at women.”

“I see,” replied Ray. “By obscene gestures, you mean-”

“Supposedly a ghostly hand appears in front of the clock face and extends its middle finger.”

Ray nodded. “Sounds like a run-of-the-mill, class one, focused vapor if you ask me. It should only take a couple seconds to extract.”

Egon stopped fiddling with his device and looked up for a moment.

“You mean a class two? A hand supposedly manifested, which means at least part of the entity has managed to enter our plane of existence.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ray said, loosening his grip on the steering wheel a bit. “Sorry. I skipped lunch, so I’m kinda hungry. Why don’t we stop somewhere and grab a bite on the way back?”

But Egon didn’t reply. He had gone back to working on the mysterious gadget. Ray shrugged, and turned the down a street.

“This must be it,” Ray said as he peered out the left window. 

An enormous clock made out of concrete towered above a tall, brick building. Under said clock, situated above a big, green door, was a wooden sign which read;

DIKEMAN’S CLOCKS AND CLASSIC TIMEPIECES

Ray pulled the car up to the green door, and shut off the engine. He and Egon stepped out of the car and went around to the back to retrieve their proton packs. As Ray was extracting his, he suddenly noticed something rather alarming. The hose that connected the neutrona wand to his pack was completely detached on the wand end.

“Damn,” Ray grumbled. “That’s what I get for asking Venkman to fix it.”

He went around to the side of the car to grab a toolbox from the back seat.

“Egon, you mind going in first to do a preliminary survey? My hose came off again.”

“Alright,” Egon said as he clipped himself into his pack. “But be quick about it. We’re not supposed to go solo.”

Egon walked over to the front door and opened it, then stepped inside. He immediately found himself standing in a well-lit room filled to the brim with nearly every kind of clock imaginable. Big clocks, small clocks, clocks shaped like apples, cuckoo clocks that played various licensed tunes, and even a few sundials. There were so many clocks in the room that Egon could barely move around with the proton pack without almost knocking something over or bumping into one of several grandfather clocks that seemed to be strewn around the room at random. 

After a few slow, careful minutes, Egon finally squeezed his way over to the front desk. A somewhat plump, middle aged woman was leaning over the desk, looking down at some miscellaneous paperwork, so she wasn’t aware of his presence at first. But after a few moments of silence, she looked up, and a sudden look of alarm spread over her face.

“I suspect you’re one of those… Ghostbusters?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Replied Egon. “I’m Dr. Egon Spengler. We received a call from the owner concerning an obscene grandfather clock?”

“Y-yes… That’s true, but…”

Egon suddenly pulled his PKE meter out of its holster and pointed it at the woman, who jumped back in surprise.

“Have you ever experienced-”

“Hold that thought!” The nervous woman said quickly, before retreating into a back room behind the counter and slamming the door behind her.

Egon raised an eyebrow, and attempted to look through the tiny window in the back room’s door, but at that moment his meter began to buzz and beep, so he quickly forgot about the woman’s strange reaction and started heading in the direction the PKE trail seemed to lead.

After another minute of carefully squeezing past clocks, Egon finally found what he was looking for. A rather ordinary, plain-looking grandfather clock tucked in the back corner of the room. If it weren’t for the PKE readings emanating from the clock, he probably wouldn’t have even remotely suspected it was haunted. Egon lifted the meter to the clock face, and as he did so, the sound of a loud raspberry being blown emanated from within. 

A couple of seconds later, Ray’s voice crackled out of Egon’s walkie-talkie.

“Alright, Egon. I got it fixed. Have you found the clock yet?”

Egon lifted his radio to his mouth. “I have, Ray. It’s in the back left corner of the shop. But before you come in, could you grab the Paranormal Eradication and Expulsion Device for me? It should still be in the passenger's seat.”

“The PEED?” replied Ray’s voice. “You sure we’ll need it? I was hoping to run a couple more tests on it just to fine tune it before we used it in the field. And maybe give it a name change.”

“We know it works, Ray,” said Egon. “And this is an opportune moment to test it. It’s hard enough to find ghosts that attach themselves to physical objects as it is.”

“Okay then,” said Ray. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Egon reattached his radio, and was trying to figure out where the PEED should be attached, when all of a sudden, a furious looking bald man quickly maneuvered his way through the clocks and stormed up to him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The man shouted.

Egon was stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but the bald man quickly cut him off.

“I’m Joe Dikeman, the owner of this shop, and I demand to know why you, Dr. Spengler, are here when I specifically insisted over the phone that you stay the hell away?!”

Egon quickly tried to regain his composure. 

“Sir, I’m afraid we can’t honor specific requests. The Ghostbusters Inc. team needs every man on deck when-”

A deafening BANG suddenly sounded from the front of the room. Egon and Dikeman looked in the direction it came from, and saw a rather sheepish looking Ray looking back at them. He had knocked over a grandfather clock.

“Sorry about that, sir,” Ray said, attempting to make his way towards them while wearing a proton pack and carrying the PEED at the same time. “I-oops!”

His pack bumped into a clock made of glass, which fell to the ground and shattered. Dikeman’s head turned red as an apple.

“What is this man doing here?!” he shouted, pointing at Egon as if he were a ugly avant-garde sculpture. 

“Dr. Spengler is one of our team members,” said Ray, gingerly stepping over the glass. 

“I know that!” grunted Dikeman. “But I specifically requested that you leave him behind!”

“Sir, we can’t pick and choose who gets sent out on our calls,” said Ray. “The Ghostbusters are a team of trained and fully qualified professionals who are experts-ow!”

(Ray had bumped his elbow into a wall and knocked down a cuckoo clock.)

“-experts that are indispensable. So we have to-”

“Forget it!” interrupted Dikeman “I shoulda never hired a bunch of guys who associate with a menace.” 

“What?”

Egon looked shocked. Ray bit his lip.

“Sir, you know the tabloids-”

“I’m not talking about the tabloids! I’m talking about the evening news! ‘Egon Spengler: A Modern Frankenstein’.”

“What are you talking about?” Egon asked.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Spengler,” Dikeman replied. “I know you infected half your chemistry class with poisonous spores as a kid. And performed lobotomies on your neighbor's cats!”

Egon looked over at Ray, eyes wide, as if to ask “Where the hell is he getting this?” but Ray seemed to be having trouble opening his mouth. Finally, after a few moments, Ray said,

“None of that is true. The report was completely falsified! And there’s no evidence to prove any of it.”

“It’s okay, Ray,” Egon said after being silent for such a long time. “The-”

But Ray wasn’t having it.

“Mr. Dikeman, either you allow us to remove your ghost, or we leave it here, where it can flip off your customers for eternity if you like,” he said in a tone that seemed to be threatening.

Dikeman looked at Ray. Then Egon. Then his haunted clock. He looked around at the damage caused by Ray. He looked over at the front desk. He then looked at the ceiling. After that, he closed his eyes and was silent for a few, long, agonizing moments. Finally, he opened his eyes.

“I’ll take the ghost. Get out, or I’ll call the cops.”


End file.
